Reality
by simlecece
Summary: She couldn't leave. She wouldn't. Her heart didn't know what it wanted, exactly, but it wasn't where she was headed. The surface held no beauty for her any longer; the depths of the Opera, where music was born and became a part of you, was where she wanted to be. It was where her Angel was. It was reality. Christine realizes where she belongs, but can her Angel, the Phantom, see?


Author's Note:

A little background in case you're a little confused at the beginning. The ending scene after Christine and Raoul have left for the final time is where this picks up. Based in the world of the play and the movie. I really appreciate the movie's depiction of the world they live in. It's beautiful and mystical and everything. (:

Well, I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Based upon the story written by Gaston Leroux and adapted by Andrew Lloyd Weber and associates. What you recognize isn't mine.

* * *

"I can't go with you."

The little boat they had escaped in stopped gently. He held the guiding pole, knuckles turning white as he tensed. A sigh escaped his lips and his shoulders slumped forward.

"Why?" He wouldn't look at her.

"Raoul..." Words escaped her. His name sufficed.

"Christine. I don't understand."

Her lips wouldn't open; her tongue wouldn't form the words. How many hearts would she break tonight?

In their silence, the mob from the opera could be heard. They were distant, but they were getting closer with every minute. Her heart raced in her chest for the creature she left only moments ago. _I won't let them harm you_.

"Christine..." He was facing her now. His pale eyes glistened with too many emotions, yet his fists let on to his barely contained anger.

"Please Raoul. You mustn't force me. I don't have the words you want to hear."

"Do you love _him?_ That murderer? He could have taken your life as well."

"He would not and you know it." She wrung her hands, looking at the deep green-ish water they floated on. It hurt to see his eyes.

"I love you. I want to keep you safe." He moved to take her hands; she dropped them.

"I will be."

"With me."

"Don't." Her face could only remain expressionless for so long, and she felt her façade beginning to crack. _Don't cry_.

"Christine, please. I can make you happy. You'll never have to worry, never need to feel frightened. I'll always be there for you. I love you with everything in me." He stepped toward her, rocking the boat.

"Believe me when I tell you that I love you as well, but..." She feared she would lose her courage to go on, scared she'd become the coward again and decide to stay. _No. _

"But _what_, Christine? But you love that beast?"

"Raoul, stop." She took a steadying breath. "I can't explain it, I just know this. In my heart. Papa would encourage me to follow my heart's instinct."

They were silent a while. Again, she heard the cacophony of the mob members as they shuffled through the maze of tunnels and waterways. Christine feared they might happen across a trap.

"You're sure? You'll be okay?"

She smiled. "I'm sure."

"Write me. Every once in awhile. When I cross your mind." She could see the effort he was making to keep calm, but to also prove his love.

"I will." She reached out to him, intending a hug, but receiving a sad goodbye kiss. He tasted like tears.

Christine broke the kiss. "I do love you Raoul. I always will."

"It's just different."

"Yes."

"Goodbye Christine. Be safe. I'll...take care of the mob."

Her brimming tears threatened to fall. "Thank you."

She pointed to a landing on the stone wall. Without her, Raoul could get to the mob and hopefully turn them around. _Or at least in another direction._

His sad eyes followed her movements as he helped her out of the vessel. The white wedding gown her Angel had given her was torn and brown with grime, seeping wet from her trek through the water.

In only moments Raoul looked years older. He looked defeated, and once again her mistrustful heart swelled for him, her cowardess rising. She bit her tongue to keep from speaking. _This is farewell_.

"Be safe."

"Always."

He shoved off, continuing down the way they'd been going. A few moments after his departure, she heard him shout: "This is the wrong way!" and a few garbled grunts followed by increased shuffling sounds as they gathered around. _Too close... _

Her skin was pimpled with gooseflesh, her body shaking from the damp cold and almost crippling fear. There was a tense moment when she thought they'd continue this way anyway, but eventually they turned around and headed back. She thanked God for Raoul and his compassion.

When she felt they were far enough away that she could shout, she did.

"Angel! Angel, I'm here!" She called. A few moments passed and again she shouted to him, craning to hear anything to alert her to his presence. Vaguely, she thought of how he'd scold her for straining her voice in such a way, but she didn't care. She needed him to find her. And soon. She was cold.

"Please..." She whispered. She'd been calling to him for a long while with no response from him. Her voice hurt; she doubted she'd be able to sing for a few days.

But that didn't matter, only he did.

She counted the stones on the other side of the canal. Double checked. Her heart sank. "Oh Angel, where are you?"

_Oh Angel..._

Gathering her strength, she slipped into the murky water. It came up to her chest, the cold making it harder to breath. She pushed through, careful of her step. Her Angel was very paranoid.

"Angel!" She shouted again, but the cold of the water made it difficult to put any volume behind it. It felt as though she were distant from even her own self.

There was light ahead, her heart raced. Her fingers were numb, her throat burned. At first it only seemed to be a trick her mind was playing, after all the mossy stones and green water she'd been seeing, but after a few more forced strides she could see the opening to his lair. And it was very real.

"Angel!" Christine started again with renewed vigor. "Angel, I'm here! Please, I'm here."

Though she continued moving forward, she doubted the existence of her legs. The dress was weighing her down. _Just a little farther._ She could see the shore.

"My Angel, I'm real." The water was becoming shallow, but she was getting heavier. Her dress was saturated, and she vaguely berated herself for ruining it. _Meg would blanch if she saw me now._

"Christine? Can it be true?"

"Angel." She panted.

"Oh demons! Torture me no longer!"

Christine did her best to straighten up, to find where he was. All the candles were lit but she still felt that see couldn't see. Quickly, she wrestled her sopping skirts up and shuffled towards his voice.

"I'm here." She smiled at nothing. _Please don't be imagining him._

She heard steps behind her- _could it be?_- and she spun around, eyes wide and searching. Hope swelled in her breast.

He stood still, eyes burning into her. Suddenly she felt like a child beneath that gaze. Her modesty took over and she dropped her skirts.

His deformed face was ragged with exhaustion and sadness, but also with a hope he was desperately trying to quench.

Christine stepped toward him, watching his face carefully. A part of her was suddenly scared, but another part was telling her everything would be okay. She just hoped it would be.

"No."


End file.
